Ek Saal
by Althea Snape
Summary: "Tumhe waqt chahiye, na? Ek saal hai tumhare paas. Ek saal karo jo karna hai. Jee lo zindagi. Phir ek saal baad chup chap apna farz nibhao." AU.
1. The Ultimatum

**A/N: My first CID story. Before I begin, I would just like to say that this story is ****_very_**** loosely based on another fic, but I can't remember its name, so if anyone finds a similarity with another story (possibly Harry Potter or Pride and Prejudice), let me know so I can create a disclaimer.**

**Here we go.**

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Chapter 1 - The Ultimatum

"Baat samajhne ki koshish to karo, Abhijeet," Kamla's voice echoed through the halls of the Shrivastava mansion. "Tum samajh kyun nahi sakte ki ye jodi kitni phaydemand hogi, is poore parivar ke liye? Aur Neha? Kam se kam apni behen ke bare me to socho. Uski bhi to shadi hone ko hai abhi tak."

"Neha acchi ladki hai, Kamla mausi. Uski shadi waise bhi ho jayegi. Aur main jaanta hoon ki agar maine aur Priya ne shaadi ki toh aap sab ko kitni khushi hogi, lekin kya uske liye mujhe apne khushi ki kurbaani deni padegi? Aur aap ko pata hai ki mujhe business mein koi interest nahi hai!" Abhijeet Shrivastava stood with his hands clenched, a frown on his face. His mother's best friend, Kamla Agarwal, sat on the sofa in front of him, with his father and his Uncle and Aunt.

His mother had passed away when he was 9, and his sister only just born . His father had immersed himself in his business, so it had fallen to him to take care of his sister. Indeed, the age difference between them meant that he was more of a father to her than a brother.

On his first birthday, he had been betrothed to Priya Agarwal, Kamla's daughter. It was an arrangement made by their mothers. It had only been a heat of the moment thing. He had taken his first steps, and the occasion had made them so happy that while discussing the future, they had somehow decided that their children would one day get married. It had never meant anything to him.

But then yesterday, his father, the well-known businessman Ravindra Shrivastava had suffered a heart attack. Although it was thankfully a minor one, it had brought the whole family together, and somehow, what had once been a heat-of-the-moment thing had now become serious, and his family had even come close to deciding a date for the nuptials.

Now, sixteen years on from his mother's death, he was thinking about what his mother would have told him to do. The more he thought of it, the more he felt that his mother would have supported him with his decision.

"Kam se kam yeh batao ke tumhare aitraaz ki kya vajah hai. Kya Priya mein koi kaami hai?" His aunt's soft voice broke through his thoughts.

"Nahi, mami. Yeh aap kya keh rahi hai? Aap janti hai ki mai use pasand karta hoon..."

"Dekha! Toh phir kya problem hai?" Kamla interrupted him "Abhijeet, ab tum bade hogaye ho. Waaris ho tum is ghar ke. Bacho jaisi harkate karna band karo aur kuch zimmedari uthana sikho."

"Problem hai, Kamla mausi," he said, gritting his teeth. "Maan liya ki mai Priya ko pasand karta hoon, lekin wo iss liye ki hum dono ek saath badhe hue hai, or woh bohot achchi ladki hai. Lekin mai usse pyar nahi karta, mausi. Aur naa kabhi karpaunga. Aur wo bhi to mujhse pyaar nahi karti. Toh hum khush kaise rahenge? Aap log hum pe aisi zabardasti nahi kar sakte."

"Pyaar? Yeh hai tumhare inkaar ki vajah? Iss mamle se pyaar ka kya lena dena?" asked Kamla, looking at him as if he was stupid. She turned to face his father. "Yeh sab- maaf kijiye, Ravindra ji, lekin mere khayal se ye sab aap hi ka kusoor hai. Nisha ke maut ke baad aap hi ne isse bighad ke rakha hai. Pehle to usse business se door jane diya, police main bharti hone diya aur ab..."

She turned back to face Abhijeet, who was now fighting to keep his mouth shut. "Tum koi gao vale ho, ki jisse man chahe usse shadi kar loge? Tumhara dimaag to thikane pe hai na? Parivaar aur parampara, issi mein prassanata milti hai, Abhijeet. Pagalpan chodo!"

His uncle stood up and made his way over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Dekho, Abhijeet," he began. "Tum jaante ho ki mai aur tumhari mami, hum dono bas tumhari khushi hi chahte hai."

Abhijeet smiled. He knew his uncle would understand. "Thank you, mama. Main toh..." but his uncle held up a hand, as if to say 'let me finish'.

"Tum achche insaan ho. Bachpan se hi bohot samajdar ho. Humare parivarik prathaonki izzat karate ho, aur hamesha apna kartavya pura karate aye ho. Hum sab jaante hai ki tumhe sab se milna jhulna pasand nahi hai, lekin phir bhi humare liye tum ye bhi karate ho."

He paused, and met his nephew's eye. "Isi liye mujhe samajhne mein zara dikkat ho rahi hai, ki tum iss bar apne kartavya ka palan karne ke itne khilaaf kaise ho sakte ho."

He shook his head disbelievingly, before continuing. "Shayad tum jaante nahi ho ki tum kya daav pe laga rahe ho. Shrivastava aur Agarwal khandan yaha ke bohot purane aur mahatvapurna khandan hai. Am taur par hame koi choo bhi nahi sakta. Hum apnon ka khayal rakh sakte hai. Itna prabhav hai humara, khi koi humare khilaaf, ya phir humare peeth ke peeche ek shabd bhi nahi kehta."

He sighed. "Lekin hum pagal nahi hai. Yeh Shrivastava Estate, aur Agarwal Estate dono humare prabhav ka ek bohot bada hissa hai. Aur ab paristhiti hi kuch aisi hai ki hume kuch na kuch karna padega. Kyun ki agar unme se ek bhi kisi ke haath lag gaya to humari yeh sthiti bhi ja sakti. Jo business humare parivaron ne, tumhare pitaji aur maine itne saalon se bada kiya hai, wo gawa denge. Barson ki mehnat nakam ho jayegi. Kya tum yehi chahte ho?"

The frown had now left Abhijeet's face, but the determination had not. "Of course main yeh nahi chahta, Mamaji, lekin aur koi to rasta hoga, iss samasya se nikalne ka?"

"Hain na," responded his uncle, this time not meeting his eye. "Hume in khandanon ke liye ek waaris chahiye. Aur agar wo tum aur Priya nahi de paye to..."

"To phir Neha ko Rajan se shadi karni padegi," finished Kamla, and there was a finality in her voice which shocked Abhijeet.

"Papa, kya yeh log sahi keh rahe hai?" he asked his father, quietly. His father's failure to respond answered his question. "Papa, woh sirf 16 saal ki hai! Aur Rajan 18 saal ka! Aap is umar mein unki shaadi karvane ka soch bhi kaise sakte hai?" he shouted, no longer able to hold it in. "Aur mausi, aap janti hai ki Priya kitni kamjor hai. Kya woh sach me ek waaris de payegi?"

"Kyun nahi de payegi? Shayad tum bhool rahe ho ki tumhari maa bhi to kamjor thi, lekin usne toh do do bachonko pehda kiya hai, na?"

"Haan, aur shayad _aap_ bhool rahi hai ki waise hi apni jaan gawa di maa ne. Neha ke baad to unki haalat itni buri ho gayi thi ki..."

"Jee, nahi. Tumhari maa ne apna farz nibhate nibhate jaan gawai hai, apni marzi se," responded Kamla

Abhijeet laughed humourlessly. "Toh aap apni khud ki beti ke liye bhi yehi chahti hai?" he asked, but Kamla ignored him.

"Dekho, Abhijeet. Tum bata do, ya toh tum Priya se shaadi karoge ya phir Neha Rajan se. Kya chahte ho tum? Kya faisla hai tumhara?"

Abhijeet said nothing, but really everyone knew what his decision would be. In fact, there _was_ no decision. He knew he would never be happy if he married Priya, but he would give up his life for his sister, let alone his happiness.

A dejected look came upon his face, and this seemed to answer everyone's questions once and for all. Kamla looked triumphant, and his aunt and uncle smiled at him, somewhat sadly, but he had only eyes for his father, who had been silent through all this.

"Mujhe kuch waqt chahiye," Abhijeet said, slowly. His aunt and uncle looked confused.

"Ab kyun waqt chahiye? Faisla toh ho chuka hai na? To phir..." Kamla began, but his father spoke for the first time.

"Aaj ki taarikh kya hai, Amit?" he said, his eyes not leaving Abhijeet's.

"Aaj... 31 August. Kyun, kya hua Ravi?" asked Abhijeet's uncle, confusedly.

"Tumhe waqt chahiye, na? Ek saal hai tumhare paas. Ek saal karo jo karna hai. Jee lo zindagi." Ravindra Vijaynath Shrivastava looked into his son's eyes, his face completely expressionless. "Phir ek saal baad chup chap apna farz nibhao."

Abhijeet was speechless. He just stood frozen, as his father walked out of the room, and the rest of the occupants of the room followed one by one, until only he and the servant Ramesh remained.

"Abhijeet beta," said Ramesh, walking up to him, and putting a hand on his hand like a father would to a son. In fact, although Ramesh was only 15 years older than him, he was more of a father to Abhijeet than Ravindra had ever been. Abhijeet could still remember when his mother had passed away and his father had locked himself in his study. His other relatives were all either mourning or taking care of his sister.

But when Abhijeet had reached out for the comfort of a parent, it was Ramesh who had been there for him. It was Ramesh who the ten year old had punched and scratched, in a desperate attempt to get his mother back. It was Ramesh who had to explain to the boy that his mother was never going to walk back through the door. And it was Ramesh who had sat with him for hours, telling him stories, distracting him, wiping away his tears, just being there.

Abhijeet looked at Ramesh's understanding expression. There had never been any need for words between them. Even now, he didn't have to say anything. Ramesh just knew. Sometimes he felt that Ramesh understood him better than he himself did.

Suddenly Abhijeet couldn't take it anymore. All his pent up emotions came out in a flood of tears, which seemed almost unstoppable. Ramesh embraced him, the same way as he had all those years ago and they just stood that way until Abhijeet's tears reduced to gentle sobbing.

"Mujhe shaadi nahi karni, Kaka," Abhijeet said, in between sobs, as Ramesh led him to the sofa, and made him drink some water. He spoke so innocently that Ramesh's heart broke. Even today, Abhijeet still had the same innocence he had 16 years ago. He was a decent kid.

"Nahi karni padegi, beta," he said, reassuringly. "Ek saal hai na humare paas. Koi na koi raasta dhoond lenge. Lekin hume thande dimaag se sochna padega. Aisa roke to kuch nahi hoga, na?" Ramesh's words had the desired effect, and eventually Abhijeet stopped crying altogether. He slowly put his head on Ramesh's shoulder, and Ramesh gently patted his head. For some time they just stayed that way, each with their own thoughts.

Abhijeet made up his mind at that moment. He would follow his father's advice. He had to get married, that much was for certain. But before that, he would live. He would get out of the house, of the city. He would go somewhere far away for a year. Forget he was ever a Shrivastava.

45 minutes later, Abhijeet had packed his bags. He didn't take much. His clothes easily identified him as a wealthy man, so he decided he would only take what was absolutely necessary. Eventually, his lifetime's worth of possessions was reduced to two small bags. Meanwhile, Ramesh had gathered everyone in the living room once more, and as Abhijeet came down the stairs, all eyes were on him.

"Bolo, kya kehna hai ab?" asked Kamla.

"Mein jaa raha hoon," Abhijeet said, trying not to show the defeat in his voice.

For what seemed like a lifetime, but was actually only a few minutes, the whole room was silent. It was Ravindra who broke the silence.

"Jao. Humesha ki tarah bhago iss se bhi."

"Ravindra ji," began Ramesh, coming to Abhijeet's defense. "Ye to kabhi bhi zimmedari se..." but Ravindra did not let him finish.

"Nahi, Ramesh. Tum humesha iski tarafdari karte ho. Aaj nahi." He turned to Abhijeet, and gave him a cold look, which Abhijeet returned with equal fervour. "Shayad tum jaante nahi ho ki main, ye parivar, tumhare liye kitna mahatvapurna hai. Issi parivar ki wajah se tumhari zindagi aaj tak itni aasan rahi hai. Jab mai tumhari umar ka tha, maine kabhi bhi apna farz nibhane se mooh nahi moda tha. Wo iss liye taki tumhe, tumhari behen ko, koi bhi mushkil ka saamna na karna pade. Aur mujhe kabhi nahi laga tha ki mujhe ye din dekhna padega."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself down, before continuing. "Aaj to tum bhaag sakte ho, lekin yaad rakhna. Agle saal, 31 August ko is ghar me ek sagai ghoshit ki jayegi. Ab ye tumpe hai ki wo sagai tumhari ya tumhare behen ki."

"Aapko to humesha se hi lagta hai ki mein apne aap kuch nahi kar sakunga, papa. Lekin aap chinta mat kijiye. Agle saal 31 August ko mere iss zindagi ka ant hoga, lekin uske pehle mein kuch karke hi rahunga," Abhijeet said, spitefully, and Ravindra turned around and walked towards the window.

"Tum jaoge kaha?" his aunt asked him, the only one showing her worry.

"Pata nahi, mami," he said to her. Then, addressing the room in general, he said, "Koi mujhe contact karne ki koshish nahi karega." No one said anything.

"Ramesh, iski bags bahar leke jao," said Ravindra, and that was that.

Abhijeet took one bag, and Ramesh took the other, and the two made their way outside, not saying a word. When they were outside, Abhijeet put his bag down and immediately touched Ramesh's feet.

"Are, iski kya zarurat hai, beta?" Ramesh put his hands either side of Abhijeet's face. "Phone karate raho," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "Ya phir kam se kam chitthi to likh sakte ho. Usse to tumhara pata nahi chalega."

Abhijeet smiled at him, and then picked up his bags and walked away, never stopping, never looking back.

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**Please review! :)**


	2. Far, Far Away

**A/N: Hi, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, and for the warm welcome into the world of CID fanfiction! It's really encouraging. This chapter is dedicated to the first reviewer of this story, 143CID-AbhiTarika.**

**Hope you like it!**

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Chapter 2 - Far, Far Away

When Abhijeet left the house, he had no clue of his destination. All he could think of was getting as far from home as he could. He just needed to clear his head, empty it of all the turmoil that was currently going on inside.

He had boarded the first train he could and had absent mindedly given the ticket checker so much money for his ticket that it was more than enough for him to go anywhere in India.

He leaned back against the somewhat uncomfortable seat, rocking side to side with the train. His last year of freedom, he thought. But no. That wasn't right. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that his life had never been his own. He had never really been able to do what he wanted. Go to the best schools, all the best colleges, associate with all the rich idiots. In fact, his father had only allowed him to join the police force on the condition that he would return to the family business when he turned 40. He had accepted at the time, glad that he would get at least some years doing what he loved. But now, it seemed that his entire life had been mapped out for him.

The worst part of it was, he was a willing participant. The threat to Neha was not really necessary. He would have given in to them eventually, in the name of duty. In fact, he did not have any idea what he was doing, asking for more time. Whatever Ramesh said, time wasn't going to make them change their minds, nor was it going to help him get used to the idea of getting married.

Nevertheless, the desire to get away from everything overwhelmed him, and he and the train carried on on their journey together, passing village after village, until he couldn't take it anymore and closed his eyes, in a desperate attempt to escape the headache which was looming.

Eventually after hours and hours, the train came to a halt, and he felt someone shaking him. "Sir? Train yehi pe rukne wali hai."

He opened his eyes and as he walked out on the station, he realised he was on unfamiliar territory. Surprisingly, it seemed to be late afternoon, and sure enough, the large clock indicated it was 4 pm. But that couldn't be. The train had departed at around 2pm. Could it really only have been 2 hours?

"Excuse me?" he asked a random passerby. "Yeh hum kaha hai?" The man gave him a look as if to ask if he he was crazy.

"Mumbai," he replied, and walked off, in a hurry. Mumbai. _Mumbai?_ But that would mean he had been travelling for over a day. How... how was that possible? Of course, that would explain why his legs were so stiff. And why he was so hungry...

He decided that the first thing he would do would be to get some food. He walked away from the station, until he came to small marketplace. It was crowded with an assortment of people, each haggling to get the best price for the fruit and vegetables, and he smiled sub-consciously. He walked over to a small apple cart, and bought an apple, but just as he was about to bite into it, he was interrupted.

"Are, pehle dho to lijiye!" He turned to see who had spoken, and was surprised to see a motherly woman frowning at him.

"Ji?" he asked, worriedly.

"Are, aap to padhe likhe lagte hai. Yeh phal bejne wale kaha kaha rakhte honge kuch pata nahi hota. Humesha dho ke khana chahiye," she lectured, and he smiled slightly, wondering if his own mother would have been the same. "Has kyun rahe hai aap?"

"Wo.. wo..." he stuttered, "er, p..pp..pani nahi tha aur bohot bhook lagi thi to maine socha..." he trailed off, looking slightly embarassed, and the woman shook her head.

"Rukiye," she said, before looking around. "Amrita!" she shouted, and he almost dropped his apple in shock. Almost as soon as she shouted, a young girl, about his sister's age, came running up to them, followed by another girl, around the same age. Their faces were so similar that they had to be sisters, and although the first girl was taller, the second seemed to be slightly older.

"Kya hua, Mom?" asked Amrita, the younger of the two. "Aur maine kaha hai na, mujhe Rita bulao!"

"Aur mujhe Kitty!" the elder one added, eagerly. Their mother shook her head, exasperatedly.

"Woh sab chodo. Pani do, zara." Amrita brought out a bottle of water from the shoulder bag she was carrying, and passed it to her mother, who then passed it to Abhijeet.

"Thanks," he said, with a slight smile, and only then did the two girls seem to notice him. They walked a little distance away, and then began to whisper and giggle. Although it was difficult to hear what they were saying, Abhijeet heard the word 'cute' mingled in the conversation, which made him suddenly feel really stuffy. Because of this, he did not realise their mother was talking to him.

"Ji?" he asked, embarrassedly.

"Nahi, woh aapke bags dekh kar lag raha hai ki aap yaha naye naye aaye hai," she said, he nodded.

"Ji haan, main abhi abhi station se hi aa raha hoo."

"Oh, to aap rehne kaha wale hai?" It was such an obvious question, and truth be told, he should have thought about it earlier. He was not usually one to rush headfirst into things, but the situation was just such that... anyhow, he had done it now. He had left home, arrived in a completely unknown city, and he had no idea what he was going to do. Suddenly, a bout of anxiety seemed to flood over him, and he took deep breaths to calm himself.

The distress seemed to be clear on his face, however, as the woman put a hand on his. "Naam kya hai tumhara, beta?" she asked, with concern, as in that one moment, all formality seemed to drop between. them.

"Ab...Abhijeet," he gulped out, but she seemed to be waiting for a surname, so he clarified for her "Sirf Abhijeet." She raised her eyebrows, but nodded.

"Main Seema Mehra, aur woh meri do betiyaa Amrita aur Kirti. Aur ab jab tak tumhe koi aur jagah nahi milti, tum humare saath rahoge." To say he was stunned would be an understatement. In fact, he looked at the woman in front of him in disbelief. How could she allow a complete stranger into her house? She didn't even know his full name, for God's sake!

"Ji?" he asked, to make sure he had heard correctly, and she smiled at his confused expression.

"Kyun? Tumhe sadkon pe rehna zyada pasand aaiyega?" she asked, and he shook his head quickly, making her smile even more widely. "To phir chalo. Amrita, Kirti, yaha aao. Yeh hai Abhijeet. Yeh kuch din humare saath rahega. Aur Abhijeet, yeh Amrita..."

"Urf Rita," said the youngest one, holding out her hand confidently. "Aur yeh meri behen Kirti urf Kitty." Abhijeet shook her hand, and smiled, before he remembered her earlier comment and dropped her hand quickly.

"Tum humare saath kyun rehne wale ho?" Kirti asked.

"Wo actually main..." he stuttered, but thankfully Seema saved him.

"Ise koi aur jagah milne tak yeh humare saath rahega, bas," she said, with finality in her tone. "Aur itne sawaal karna accha nahi hota, Kirti."

"Mom, maine kaha itne sawaal..." argued Kitty, but Seema interrupted.

"Theek hai, theek hai. Ab bak bak band karo aur Abhijeet ke bags uthane me madat karo," she ordered. The girls tried to take the bags from him, but he refused and they made their way to the Mehra family house, the girls telling their mother stories as they walked, and Abhijeet just ate his apple, feeling a strange contentedness.

The girls were so full of life. He wondered if his own sister would have been like them had his mother been alive. Leaving Neha was the worst part of this. They had never been apart, really, for more than a week, and now he would have to go a whole year without seeing her... he felt a great pang in his heart as he thought this, but the lively chatter around him didn't allow him to feel depressed, and soon they were home.

Seeing the Mehra family home surprised him slightly. Certainly, it did not have the over-extravagance of the Shrivastava property, but by no means was it small. In fact, as he was shown around it, he was more and more impressed. The house was definitely not as large as he was used to, but it was so immaculately kept, and beautifully furnished, that it seemed to welcome him immediately. Moreover, the mismatched pillow covers, the randomly collected furniture and the posters of actors and actresses covering the walls made it feel more like a home to him in his first 20 seconds there, than his own house had done in over 20 years.

As he sat down, after having been given the grand tour of the house, he suddenly realised that the apple had not been enough to subdue his hunger, and his stomach seemed to echo this, as it grumbled loudly. Seema immediately got up saying "Main kuch lati hoon" and went off into the kitchen. The girls had immediately gone into their own rooms after entering the house, so he was left alone. He picked up the newspaper from the table in front of him, but as he read, he was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"Mamma? Doorbell kharab ho gayi hai! Darwaza kholo na!" came a muffled female voice.

_Mamma_, thought Abhijeet. _Did Mrs Mehra have more children?_ As the knocking grew louder, he got up and decided to open the door, and as he did so, everything went black.

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**Please review! :)**


	3. Trust

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! They really brighten my day! **

**I think you all know who the woman at the door is by now, lekin yaar meri izzat rakhne ke liye pretend kijiye ;) **

**aditi I think you mentioned a story called "a story like his" where the characters happened to have the same name. That's really strange but it's a complete coincidence, as I haven't read this story. I'll definitely go and read it. At the end, I'll give a 'short' insight as to how I came up with the names, which I'd been meaning to do anyway but your review gave me a nice reason to do so.**

**Also someone asked about his life as a policeman. Thanks for pointing that out! I've ammended this chapter to clarify that somewhat. I really appreciate any constructive criticism.**

**Dedication for this chapter goes to DUO my life, the first reviewer of Chapter 2.**

**Let's go!**

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Chapter 3 - Trust...

"...aur mujhe kya pata hoga ki koi darwaza kholega? Mai to bas zor zor se darwazepe maar rahi thi. Lag gayi na muthi, ab kya kar sakte hai hum?"

"Lekin tumhe itne zor se darwaza bajane ki koi zarurat hi nahi thi! Ek baar mujhe phone kar deti, to main aati na darwaze pe! Ab bechara behosh ho gaya..."

Abhijeet slowly regained consciousness and opened his eyes, to see Seema and another woman arguing with each other. The other woman was taller, and had waves of dark, curly hair pouring out of her head.

"Are, behosh hi to hua hai, na? Theek ho jayega, Mamma," said the unfamiliar woman, looking annoyed. "Waise koi itna bhi kamzor kaise ho sakta hai? Maine itne bhi zor se nahi mara tha."

"Pata nahi usne kuch khaya hai ya nahi. Bohot bhook lag rahi thi use to main khana bana rahi thi..." Seema looked towards him worriedly, and he quickly closed his eyes.

"Tum bhi na, Mamma. Kisi ko bhi uthake leke aati ho ghar me. Ye duniya itni acchi nahi hai, sab pe bharosa rakhke nahi chalega..." said the woman, but trailed off when she saw the look in her mother's eyes.

"Ab tu sikhayegi mujhe?" asked Seema angrily. "Maa hu teri. Sab jaanti hu ki duniya kaisi hai. Lekin tu jab se CID me kaam karne lagi hai, tujhe to sab hi mujrim lagne lage hai."

"Mamma please, ye mat shuru karna phirse..."

"Theek hi to keh rahi hoon." Seema sighed, and closed her eyes, while the other woman rubbed her temples. When Seema opened her eyes again, she said slowly, "Main jaanti hoon ki aise kisi pe bhi bharosa karna accha nahi hai. Lekin maine uss waqt uske aankhon mein jo nirasha dekhi, pata nahi kyun meri mamta jaag uthi. Tum jab maa banogi to tum bhi samjhogi." The curly-haired woman shook her head.

"Mamta jaag uthi?" she asked, incredulously. "Kya mamma, tum bhi na. Jo bhi kaho, mujhe ispe bharosa nahi hai. Jaise hi ye uthe, main isse kuch sawaal puchna chahti hoon."

"Dekho, ye behoshi ke halat mein hai, aur tum isse puch taanch karne ki baat kar rahi ho. Sach mein, yeh to CID..."

"Haan, mamma. CID mein hone ka asar hai, lekin iss liye nahi kyun ki sab log mujrim lagte hai. Balki iss liye ki main confirm karna chahti hoon ki yeh aadmi accha hai. Of course main nahi chahti hoon ki ye bura ho, lekin papa bhi humesha kehte hai, 'better safe than sorry', right?"

"Tum aur tumhare papa, bilkul ek jaise hai. Mujhe ye batao, tumhe jo karna hai wo to tum karne hi waali ho, to phir ye puchne ka natak bhi kyun?" Seema asked, and her daughter sighed.

"Please, mamma, mai aapse behes nahi karna..." but she suddenly caught sight of Abhijeet's open eyes, and frowned. Seema turned to him, and smiled, and he pushed himself up.

"Abhijeet beta, kaise ho ab?" Seema asked him. "Yeh meri beti bhi bilkul pagal hai. Waise tum isse mile nahi ho na? Yeh Tarika. Aur Tarika, yeh ladka jo tumhari wajah se behosh ho gaya tha uska naam Abhijeet."

Abhijeet looked towards the woman, who was giving him a forced smile, and smiled genuinely in return. However, the movement of his jaw muscles seemed to trigger something in his body, as his stomach grumbled loudly.

"Are, main to bhool hi gayi," Seema said, and rushed out to bring him food.

For some time, Abhijeet and Tarika avoided eye contact. It was Tarika who broke the silence.

"Aapko zyada dard to nahi ho raha na?"

Truth be told, his nose was paining and his head still ached from his impact with the ground, but the expression on her face made it clear that she couldn't care less, so all he could do was shake his head and say "Bilkul nahi". She nodded.

"Waise, aap yaha Mumbai mein kaise aa gaye, aur wo bhi bina kisi rehne ki jagah ka intezaam kiye?" asked Tarika, as Seema walked in, and Seema frowned at her daughter.

"Tarika! Kyun ise sawaal karke pareshaan kar rahi ho? Tum isse chodo, Abhijeet. Ye lo. Pohe khao." Abhijeet looked at the unfamiliar dish, and wondered what it was. "Pohe. Maharashtra mein bohot khaye jatein hai. Tumhe yaha rehna hai to iski aadat dalni padegi, beta." Abhijeet smiled warmly, and took the dish. Once he began eating, he couldn't stop, and although his stomach was full after two servings, the dish was so delicious that his heart was not satisfied until a third helping.

"Lagta hai aapko puchneki zarurat hi nahi hai, ki aapko pohe kaise lage," said Tarika rudely, as he drank some water, and he looked at her carefully. Usually, people were too scared of him and his family to even joke around with him, so he was not used to people speaking to him in this way. He supposed that punching him on the nose had given her that right...

"Ji, sach much khana bohot accha bana tha," Abhijeet said to Seema.

"Aap kaha se aaye hai, jo aapne pohe kabhi khaye nahi hai?" Tarika asked, suspisciously.

"Main... main to..." but he was saved from answering by Seema's phone ringing.

"Hello," she said picking up the phone. "Haan, ek minute, aati hoon." She hung up and looked at Tarika. "Tarika, jao aur darwaza kholo."

"Mamma, agar aap mujhe distract karne ki koshish kar rahi hai to..." but Seema interrupted.

"Deepali ka phone tha. Usne darwaza khatkhatane ke vajai phone karke batadiya ki wo bahar aa gayi hai. Magar phir bhi agar tumhe nahi darwaza kholna to phir yahi khadi raho, aur tumhari behen ko waha thand lagne do." Tarika rolled her eyes.

"Ok, ok, jaati hoon," she huffed, and went off to open the door. Seema just shook her head.

"Meri badi beti aa gayi," she told Abhijeet.

"My god, Mrs Mehra, aur kitne log hai aapke ghar mein?" he asked, in shock.

"Bas, sirf mein, mere pati aur humari paanch betiyaan," Seema told him, and grinned when his eyes widened comically. She was used to this kind of reaction. "Deepali, jo abhi abhi aayi hai, wo sabse badi. Phir Tarika. Uske baad Marisha, jo abhi England mein padh rahi hai, aur Kirti aur Amrita ko to tum mil hi chuke ho. Mere pati, Sameer, abhi sheher ke bahar gaye hue hai, kisi kaam par. Kal shaam tak wapas aayenge."

"Hogaya aatmacharitra batana, maa?" came a soft voice from the door, and Abhijeet and Seema both turned to see Tarika, standing there with another young woman, Deepali.

Seeing the two standing next to each other, there was very little to show that they were sisters. Deepali was shorter, about the same height as Seema, and had absolutely straight hair. Where Tarika's eyes were dark, Deepali's were hazel. Deepali had fairer skin, whereas Tarika's skin was slightly darker, but tinged with pink from the exertion of running to open the door. In short, Deepali was a traditional beauty, whereas Tarika... Abhijeet cleared his throat.

In fact, the only similarity that Abhijeet could find between the two were their expressions, and yet there seemed to be something different, something mischievous about the way that Tarika's eyebrows had risen up slightly, and the way there was a slight quirk of her lips which made her look... Abhijeet gulped, and thankfully, he was saved from further analysis of her face as Deepali began to speak.

"Kya, maa, inhe bore kyun kar rahi ho?" Deepali asked, grinning cheekily at her mother, before turning to Abhijeet. "Waise to aapko poori kahani batayi gayi hogi, lekin officially introduce karti hoon. Yeh Tarika, doctor hai, aur kuch hi saalon mein wo bohot rich aur successful banegi, to aap abhi autograph leke rakh dijiye... ouch, Taru, kya? Sach hi to keh rahi hoon," she shouted, as her sister pinched her on the arm.

Abhijeet laughed, liking Deepali immediately. "Waise aapki behen khud ka kaam badhane ke liye pehle logon ko maarti hai, kya?" he asked mischievously. Tarika did not seem amused, however.

"Agar mujhe apna kaam badhana hota," she said, her face expressionless, "to aap mar chuke hote."

"Ji?" he asked, slightly afraid of the look on her face, and Deepali giggled at his serious expression.

"Actually, Abhijeet ji, ye ek forensic doctor hai," she said. "Aur main journalist. Namaste."

"Namaste, aur aap please mujhe sirf Abhijeet bulaiye," he said in reply. "Waise abhi to mere paas koi kagaz nahi hai, lekin jab mil jayega to pehle aapka autograph lelunga." He winked at Tarika, but she just turned her head.

"Waise, tum kya karte ho, Abhi?" Amrita asked him that evening, while they were having dinner.

"Amrita!" Tarika scolded. "Muh me jo khana hai wo khatam kar ke baat karo, aur unka naam Abhijeet hai."

"Okay, _MOM!_ Aap kya karte ho, _Abhijeet ji_?" she repeated, sarcastically. "Waise, main tumhe Abhi keh sakti hoon, na?"

"Ji kyun... kyun nahi." Abhijeet cleared his throat. "Main ek police inspector hoon..." he began, before remembering that he had left that life behind for now. How could he have been so stupid? He had not even given a second thought to his job. What would everyone think? The more he thought about it, however, the more he doubted whether anyone would miss him. The truth was, everyone at the station hated him. They all thought that the only reason he had been given the job was that he was the son of Ravindra Shrivastava. The worst thing was, to some extent, it really _was_ part of the reason he had got the job. Perhaps his father was right. Perhaps he wasn't capable of doing anything on his own.

But no. That was wrong. That was what he had come to prove, to his father, to his family, even to himself. He had come to show everyone that he _could _manage to stand on his own two feet.

A determination had entered his face, and the eldest three women looked at each other, wondering what had changed his mood so suddenly. Kirti and Amrita had not seemed to have noticed, however.

"Aapki aur Tarika ki jamegi, phir," Kirti said, leaning close to him. "Wo CID mein kaam karti hai."

"Ji, pata hai." Abhijeet said, looking towards Tarika. Some of the harshness had left her face when she found out that he was in the police. However, the distrust was still present. Now he realised that she was looking at him questioningly, wondering how he knew where she worked. He cleared his throat again. "Maine Mrs Mehra ki baat..." he began.

"Mujhe 'Mrs Mehra' mat kaho, beta," Seema interrupted. "Iss naam se to sirf mere pati ke colleagues mujhe bulate hai. Kum se kum Seema Mausi to kaho."

"Ji. Seema Mausi ki baat sun liyi thi, jab aapko laga kk..kki main... behosh tha..." he stammered, sheepishly. The younger girls burst into peels of giggles, Seema shook her head with a smile, Deepali chuckled softly, and even Tarika seemed to be having difficulty preventing an embarrassed smile making its way onto her face.

"Actually, Tarika ji," he asked, an idea suddenly popping into his head. "Kya CID mein mujhe koi kaam mil sakta hai?"

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**Beyond this, I just wanted to give you all a bit of background, because a couple of people had some doubts. If you want to stop reading, just scroll down and don't forget to review ;)**

**I did a lot of research because I wanted both families to originate in the same place (I don't live in India so I just based it on the fact that Aditya Shrivastava is from UP and so is Amitabh Bachchan, who is the love of my life :D) So in my story, the Shrivastava family is currently prominent in UP. There is a reason the families have to originate in the same place, which will probably be clear much later.**

**Coming up with 'Shrivastava' was easy, but as for Mehra, I actually based it on my grandparents' neighbours, whose family originates in Delhi but moved to Mumbai years ago, and have become almost like a part of my own family. The grandfather moved there when he was in school and then lived there his whole life, getting settled with a Marathi girl (the person on whom 'Seema mausi' is based). The couple have only daughters themselves, and now have many grandchildren, and some aspects of Kirti and Amrita's character are very similar to two of these grandchildren. **

**The real 'Seema mausi' passed away last year, and I suppose in a way I am paying homage to her, with the characterisation of Seema in this story. Mrs Mehra was extremely loving, happy-go-lucky, and accepted everyone for who they were. When my own grandparents were going through a hard time in life, she and her husband supported them very much. **

**I don't want anyone to think that, because it is a tribute to the Mehras, the family in the story will be perfect. The Mehras were only my muse for my writing. However, as I started writing, each character began to develop his/her own identity, and with this come flaws. **

**But I suppose this note is just my way of making sure that the Mehras get the credit they deserve, although they definitely won't be reading this - sadly, they don't share my love of CID!**

**Phew! Sorry about that really long note! I'm done now (****_thank god,_**** you're probably thinking). **

**Anyway, please review!**


	4. Not Just a River in Egypt

**A/N: Hey, guys. Thank you so much for your continued support. It always makes me so happy to read your comments, even though I hear some of them are taking ages to show!**

**Dedication goes to 143CID-AbhiTarika yaar, review first one more time and you'll get a hat-trick of dedications! :)**

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Chapter 4 - Not Just a River in Egypt

"Kya CID mein mujhe kaam mil sakta hai?"

Tarika stared at him, dumbfounded. Was this guy for real? He was just _asking_ for a job in the Mumbai CID Team, one of the best known specialist departments _in the country_? And he was asking a woman who he had met about 2 hours ago, and who did not even know his full name? He definitely needed to get his head checked out.

"I'm sorry, abhi to koi kaam nahi hai," was all she said. Seriously, she didn't trust this guy. If possible, she would get some of his hair, and carry out a DNA test to make sure he wasn't a criminal. She would have to do it carefully, though. If her mother found out... well, suffice it to say that her mother could not find out.

"Tarika, tum aise hi kaise keh sakti ho. Puchke to dekh sakti ho ACP sir ko," Deepali said to Tarika that night, as they were preparing to sleep.

"Nahi, Di, ACP sir to kabhi nahi manenge, aur wo bhi sahi hi hai. Kisi naye aadmi ko aise lena bhi ajeeb lagta hai," Tarika replied, leaning on the headrest and closing her eyes.

"Tumhe nahi puchna to koi baat nahi. Main hi Daya se baat kar lungi," Deepali said with a slight frown. Tarika looked towards her sister in shock. Deepali was lying down, with her eyes closed. She had gone to sleep without wishing Tarika goodnight. Deepali never got annoyed with her! Deepali never got annoyed with anyone! Alright, she didn't exactly _shout_ at her right now but it was as close as she would come to it! Tarika couldn't believe it. Her sister trusted too easily, that much was for certain. But Deepali seemed to have given this Abhijeet more importance in her life than her own sister. And she had only known him for a few hours.

Tarika just lay down and closed her eyes, trying to figure out why her sister acted the way she did, wishing this parasite had never come into their lives.

Deepali meanwhile, was thinking about Abhijeet. When Tarika first told her about 'the man Mamma picked up from the streets' she had no idea what to expect. Contrary to what most people believed, she was not as trusting as it seemed. Unlike Tarika, however, she was prepared to give him the benefit of the dooubt, and now she was glad she had done so.

The variety of emotions he had experienced in that one dinner showed just how bad he was at hiding his feelings. She could still remember how excited he had looked when he had asked Tarika about joining CID. And then she answered. And then his face fell. All the hopefulness which had entered his expressions a few seconds ago vanished as quickly as it had come. And suddenly Deepali had realised why her mother had invited him, a complete stranger, into their house. Because the honesty which was in that expression of his could not be faked.

But Tarika would not understand this. Nor would she listen, if Deepali told her to trust him. Abhijeet would not earn her trust so easily. No, it would have to be Deepali who spoke to Daya.

The next morning, the morning rush took over the Mehra home, as everyone hurried here and there to get ready.

"Mamma, aapne meri blue colour ki file kahi dekhi hai?"

"Shayad Amrita ne hata di, kal wo wahi pe beithi thi kal."

"Mom! Tarika ko kaho na, ki mujhe drop karde college mein! Main bore ho jati hoon train mein!"

"Tarika..."

"Mamma, maine ise kitni baar bataya hai ki meri gadi mechanic ke paas hai, aur mein Daya ke saath jane wali hoon aaj."

"Amrita, utho! Late ho rahi ho tum!"

This was the scene which Abhijeet was confronted with when he walked out of his room. At first, he froze with shock at the sheer level of noise which had filled the house. He found it distasteful and somewhat irritating. However, as he thought about it, he found himself wishing, not for the first time, that his own family was like this. A embarassed chuckle to his left brought him out of his reverie.

"Pagal hai sare," Deepali said, looking slightly ashamed. He just smiled at her.

"Josh hona buri baat nahi hai," he responded.

"Ji, bilkul nahi hai," she said. "Lekin phir bhi, pagal to hai."

He laughed. "Haan, haan, pagal hai."

"Himmat kaise hui tumhari?" another voice came from behind him, and he turned around to see an extremely annoyed Tarika standing there, with her fists clenched and a frown on her face. "Jawab do!" she said.

"Tarika..." Deepali began, trying to calm her sister down, but even Abhijeet had realised by now that when Tarika got angry, there was very little anyone could do.

"Nahi, Di. Tum beech mein mat bolo. Himmat kaise hoti hai iski, humko pagal bulane ki? Ek to ye anjaan aadmi, iska poora naam bhi nahi pata aur phir bhi humne ise rehne ki jagah dii hai, aur ab ye humari hi beizzati kar raha hai?"

"Ji, aap galat samajh rahi hai," Abhijeet said, shaking his head.

"Haan, Tarika," Deepali agreed. "Issne to sirf mazaak mein kaha tha."

"Mazaak ki bhi hadd hoti hai na, Di?" Tarika challenged. "Aur aap isko har baar bachane ki koshish kyun karti hai?"

"Jo sach hai wo hi to bata rahi..." but Deepali's sentence was left incomplete as Tarika's phone rang at that minute.

"Hello," she said angrily, picking up the phone. "Haan Daya... nahi, nahi kuch nahi hua... are... haan main shaant hoon... accha, baba... haan, abhi aati hoon." She hung up, looking slightly calmer than before, but still gave Abhijeet a disgusted look, before walking out to open the door.

"Yeh Daya kaun hai?" Abhijeet asked, trying not to show just how curious he really was. He had seen how she had subtly relaxed when she had heard his voice, and he was curious about who would have such an effect on her.

"Inspector Daya. Wo CID mein kaam karta hai. Actually, Tarika ko usi ki wajah se forensics ki naukri ke bare mein pata chala.. are!" Deepali exclaimed. "Accha hua wo yaha aa gaya hai! Usse tumhare kaam ke bare mein poonch sakte hai! Chalo jaldi!" Abhijeet wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to meet this 'Daya'. If they were just colleagues, why would she suddenly become so much happier after hearing his voice? _More importantly,_ he asked himself, _why do I care?_

Deepali had hurried towards the stairs, but Abhijeet was still rooted to the spot, so she ran back and grabbed his hand, before dragging him downstairs.

Tarika, meanwhile, had rushed down, wishing to get away. Her sister had done it again. Deepali had chosen that... _man_ over her! She was so irritated she could punch someone. It was with a furious expression that she opened the door to let Daya in, and he immediately put his hands out to defend himself.

"Are mujhe mat maro!" he said. Tarika's anger was replaced with confusion for a second, before she rolled her eyes.

"Kya Daya, tum bhi," she said, and he looked at her from behind his hands, before lowering them and grinning.

"Waise aaj madam ko itna ghussa kyun aaya hai?" he asked, casually.

"Baad mein batati hoon," Tarika responded. "Pehle tum chalo yaha se."

"Are, aise kaise chalo?" he asked. He had known Tarika since she was just a girl, and he knew that if her anger wasn't dealt with immediately, it would build up and become much more dangerous. "Abhi abhi to aaya hoon. Seema chachi se to milne do!"

"Kabhi aur mil lo, Daya," Tarika said to him.

"Ok, to phir Deepali -"

"Mein jaa rahi hoon, Daya. Tumhe aana hai to aao." He gave her a look as if to say 'how are you going to go without me?'. "Car ki chabiya to car mein hi hai na?" Ah. Technically she could leave without him, and then ACP Pradyuman would be annoyed with him for being late. He sighed. He would have to get her to deal with her anger later.

"Chalo phir," he said, and they walked out.

"Daya! Ruko!" Daya and Tarika were almost out of the door, but on hearing Deepali's voice, Daya stopped and turned around.

"Daya, tum uski baat mat sunna," Tarika whispered to him urgently, but Daya's attention was elsewhere. All he could see was Deepali's hand entwined with another man's.

Daya and Deepali had gone to school together. Daya's current height was nothing to go by. As a child, he had been unnaturally small. On top of that, being an orphan meant having no parents to defend him, and this had made him an ideal target for bullies. The five year old Daya would sit alone behind a tree every day, eating as much as he could before one of the 'big kids' found him and took away his lunch.

One day, as he was sitting behind said tree, a little girl had wandered past, picking flowers to make a neclace out of. When she had caught sight of the boy hiding there, she had at first scolded him for eating his lunch so messily, but when the big boys had come and tried to steal Daya's food, she could not bear it. She had told them to go away, resulting in one of them pushing her to the ground. This was obviously the wrong thing to do, as it had provoked her to kick him in the exact spot her aunty had told her to. Needless to say, the boys had not bothered them again, and as Daya often said, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

They were probably two people you would never think were such good friends. Deepali, even at that young age, was extremely pretty. By the age of seven, she had, albeit unknowingly, broken the hearts of many of the boys in her school. Yet the only boy she spoke to was the short, poor and unpopular Daya. Everyone would laugh at Deepali for being friends with him, but she never left his side and ten years later, the tables had turned. Perhaps it was the fact that Daya could eat all of his lunch but ten years later, he was handsome, well-built and 5'10''. He had a following of girls, and yet Deepali was the only girl, the only _student_, in fact, who he wished to be friends with.

Even today, the two were the best of friends. Until today, Daya always said that Deepali was like a sister to him. He even convinced himself that he thought of her like a sister. So, he had no explanation for the strange pain he felt when he saw Deepali holding hands with another man, nor could he explain the sudden urge to punch that ba...

"Daya! Thank god tum aa gaye," Deepali said, and to Daya's relief she let go of that man's hand.

"Kya baat hai, Deepali? Itni jaldi mein kyun ho?" he asked, and he could not resist adding: "Aur yeh aadmi kaun hai?"

"Actually, isi ke bare mein baat karni thi, Daya," said Deepali, and Daya's heart began to beat faster. "Yeh Abhijeet. Police Inspector hai. Aur Abhijeet, yeh Inspector Daya. CID mein hai." She paused, obviously expecting them to shake hands, and both of them reluctantly complied, each trying in their own, masculine way, to squeeze the other's hand harder. Tarika cleared her throat and only then did they quickly release each other.

"Actually use Mumbai mein kaam chahiye tha," Deepali continued, as if she hadn't noticed the hostility between the two. "Tum ACP sir se baat karke ise CID mein naukri dilwa sakte ho na?"

So this _Abhijeet_ wanted a job? In Mumbai? That was it? But if that was the case, how did Deepali know him?

"Er, Deepali," Daya began uncertainly, not sure if he wished to know the answer. "Tum isse kaise jaanti ho?"

Deepali looked towards Tarika, who looked away. "Daya, yeh..."

Daya gulped. She was going to say that the idiot was her boyfriend. She deserved so much better! Granted, Daya didn't even know him but this _Abhijeet_ just _looked_ untrustworthy, and he wasn't at all handsome, and he was probably really stupid -

"Manish bhaiyya ka dost hai."

"_Manish_ _bhaiyya_ _ka dost_?" Daya almost shouted. "Thank God!" The two women gave him strange looks at this so he shifted nervously. He was still tempted to say that ACP sir would never agree to take someone new on, but he made the mistake of looking into Deepali's eyes at that minute. They were filled with such hope that he couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. "Er, mein ACP sir se baat kar lunga." At this, Tarika looked outraged with him, and Abhijeet looked somewhat happier than before, but Daya had eyes for only Deepali, as her face had erupted into the most beautiful smile. Really, he had never realised how stunning she looked when she smiled.

"Er, kuch guaranteed nahi hai," he said quickly, feeling the need to clarify, just in case the idiot... er, Abhijeet didn't get a job. "Jo ACP sir kahenge wo..." but he could not finish, and his breath caught as Deepali enveloped him in a hug.

"You're the best, Daya," Deepali said, letting go. He smiled, trying to stop himself from turning red.

"Uh, haan. Wo to main hoon," he said. To his horror, however, Deepali went up to Abhijeet and ruffled his hair. But _Daya _was the only one who could get his hair ruffled by Deepali! How dare that prat - "Ouch!" Tarika had slapped him on the arm. "Kya?"

"Chalein?" she asked, amazed at how her sister was so unaware of how high she was held in Daya's esteem, and even more amazed at how oblivious Daya was to his own admiration.

"Er, haan, chalo," he said. Saying goodbye to Deepali (and unwillingly to Abhijeet), they made their way out, and Daya kept repeating to himself that he didn't care about how close Deepali was standing to Abhijeet.

During the entire conversation between Daya and Deepali, Abhijeet had been torn between two things.

The first thing was figuring out why he was so annoyed with Daya. When they had first come downstairs, he had seen how close Daya and Tarika were standing, and had given Daya a dark look, but the foolish man had not noticed. When time had come to shake his hand, he had gripped as tightly as he could, wishing to cause him pain, but having no idea why he felt that way. To his surprise, Daya had squeezed just as tightly in return, and it had turned into a battle of masculinity, which had quickly ceased when Tarika had cleared her throat.

Ah, that brought him onto the second thing. Staring at Tarika. No, staring wasn't the right word. He had been _observing _her, her facial expressions, her body language... NO. Not in _that_ way. Just how she had furiously looked at him, before averting her eyes. How she had seen him and Daya attempting to murder each other through that hand shake, and had subtly intervened. How she had seemed so tempted to tell Daya the truth about who he was, but had not done so. How much that blue dress suited her...

He had eventually forced himself back into the conversation, and had just caught Daya agreeing to speak to the ACP of the Mumbai CID branch. Abhijeet was surprised, to say the least. Daya had not seemed to like him particularly. He must have missed some part of the conversation. He would have to ask Deepali later.

Nevertheless, he was relieved, knowing that he at least had a chance of getting somewhere with the year. He looked up to see Tarika about to burst with anger, and sub-consciously took a small step back. He really needed to work on not making her angry.

At that moment, Deepali had come up to him and ruffled his hair, and he had smiled at her. He really was grateful that he had someone on his side. Seeing Tarika punch Daya on the arm had temporarily made his heart lighter, but on retrospection, he realised that there was a certain fondness in that gesture, a certain familiarity which could only come from being extremely close. He told himself that Daya was probably like a brother to her, but even in his own mind, this seemed to be a lie. _No,_ he thought, _why should he be bothered about what Tarika's relationship was with that fool?_

With this thought in mind, he walked into the kitchen to ask Seema mausi if she wanted any help, all the while repeating to himself that he didn't care about how Daya had gently put a hand on Tarika's back as they walked out together.

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**Please review! :)**


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